


Bedelia's cunt

by Cibbs



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Hannibal (TV) Fusion, Bathtub, Body Worship, Desire, Dress, Erotica, F/M, Grapefruit, Imagination, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Waltzing, dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 19:07:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17473289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cibbs/pseuds/Cibbs
Summary: Aesthetics becomes erotics.





	Bedelia's cunt

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [El coño de Bedelia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17473424) by [Cibbs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cibbs/pseuds/Cibbs). 



"Thy navel is like a round goblet, which wanteth not liquor." ( _Song of Solomon_. Chapter 7, versicle 2) 

 

I am sitting at a table of the embassy’s great hall. In front of me is a woman with a dark blue dress brocade in gold and a floor long skirt. It is Bedelia du Maurier, my psychiatrist, who dances a waltz with a short black bearded man.

When the music stops, a waiter gets near to me with a champagne cup. I give it a sip before proposing Bedelia to dance the next song. The orchestra starts playing and I take her hands. After a spin, we look ourselves and smile.

“ _Bellissima_!” I say when the music ends.

“ _Grazie_!”

At last we are at home. Bedelia leaves her stole and her handbag on the hall’s divan while I sit on the piano and I start pushing the keys.

I hear the bathtub’s faucet. Bedelia calls me and I open her the zipper of her dress’s bodice, which she leaves on the armchair. I leave the bathroom, but I can’t help stopping at the door and observing, even if it is only for a few seconds, her nude body. My eyes run over it from top to bottom, starting from her cold blue eyes and ending in her mount of Venus. It is then when I feel like something has hypnotized me. What a beauty! What a pleasure! What a delight! I can’t get off my head the picture of Bedelia’s cunt. Perfection. Prototype of all cunts. Mons pubis seeded with all kinds of aromas, flavours and textures. Cunt among all cunts. Queen of spades. How I would like to water that black jungle, impregnating it with my desire’s fruit, milky and viscous, making that mature woman see that she hasn’t lost any of her Olympic goddess attributes! Bedelia du Maurier, arising from the sea foam. Bedelia du Maurier, blonde Venus. Bedelia du Maurier, a virgin rainforest and me, Hannibal Lecter, its explorer. 

If she would decide to have a bath in a river or an ocean, I would like to be a fish to traverse her cunt’s nooks. Aphrodite arising from the waters. Mother goddess synchronising herself with the cosmos. 

“You no longer have ethical concerns, Hannibal.” Bedelia had told me once. “You have aesthetical ones.”

I think about it and I want to laugh at the simple and, at the same time, complicated reasoning of my colleague. A life without beauty nor passion is a life not worth living. Man has the art in the blood.

Bedelia appears in the bedroom, dressed in a blue lace negligée, in contrast with her pale skin.

At last I can satisfy my appetite! I untie the ribbon that closes the negligée and I observe Bedelia’s cunt in all its splendour. Treasure among treasures! I get my lips nearer to her labia while my tongue, still shy, proceeds with its exploration.

“Thank you.” I say.

“Thank you, Bedelia.”

“Thank you, Bedelia.”

“Thank you, Venus.”

“Thank you, Venus.”

THE END


End file.
